Community center class: Yes, You Can Actually Cook
Eliot wasn't entirely certain if the cooking classroom had always been in the community center, or if the building had just happened to grow one when he decided to teach a cooking class here this summer. He was reasonably certain he was in the same place he'd taken that psychics class, but he didn't remember it having a selection of full sized electric ovens, refrigerators, and ranges. He'd've preferred gas, but around here, with the sort of class he was teaching, that was probably asking for a leak and either natural gas poisoning or an explosion.
When the students arrived, they'd find a series of tables set up in the center of the room, and enough small kitchen sets for everyone to use, so long as they didn't mind pairing off. Eliot himself was at the front of the class, his hair held back with a black bandana, an apron covering his usual t-shirt-and-jeans. The table in front of him had a set of frying pans, a bouquet of spatulas and whisks, several egg cartons, and a variety of vegetables, both pre-packaged and fresh.
"Hi," he said, when class was set to start. He didn't actually have a roster for this one, so he figured whoever was here was who he was going to get. "For those of you who maybe haven't met me, I'm Eliot Spencer. I own and manage the diner in town. I've taught cooking and worked with master chefs all over the world, and I'm caterin' the wedding of the pickiest eater this island has likely ever seen." He smiled. "But we ain't dealin' with anything like that in this class." He picked up a zucchini and tossed it from hand to hand, spinning it in the air as he circled the front table.
"Cooking is an art form, don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Cooking is my art, how I deal with the crap life likes to hand me. More important, though, cooking is a skill. Bein' able to feed yourself somethin' good, nutritious, and tasty, is a basic life skill anyone can -- and should -- master."
He set the zucchini down with a thunk and folded his arms.
"Before we get started, let me say this: there ain't nothin' wrong with a freezer and a microwave. They're great. Take it from a guy who's had to live off MREs or what he could catch and cook in the wild. Bein' able to just pull somethin' out of the icebox and nuke it for a couple of minutes is a godsend. But it ain't no way to live your whole life, and at the moment this island ain't in the Gobi Desert. If we ain't gettin' attacked by aliens or invaded by ten year olds, there's no excuse for not puttin' in the effort to make yourself somethin' fresh on the regular.
"We'll start off super easy today: scrambled eggs. And because you need more'n protein and fat in your diet, I've got some quick cookin' veggies for y'all to toss in there with 'em. Me, I like to do it up with a little spinach and tomato, when they're in season." Advantage of portal travel, you could always get somewhere that tomatoes were in season. "Out of season tomatoes taste like gym socks. Never settle for less than a good summer tomato." Like the bright red one he was tossing from hand to hand, now. He swapped it for a plastic bag with a big green dude on it. "If that's too crazy for ya, you can do a steamed vegetable medley." He held the bag up for the room to see. "See? Frozen and microwavable. So long as these steam-in-the-bag things haven't been sittin' in the back of the freezer for six months, they're still going to be pretty good. A little soggy for my tastes, but if you toss them in the pan for a bit with a little bit of oil before you add your egg, they should firm up.
"As for the egg." He picked one out of the carton and held it up. It was brown, speckled, and unrefrigerated. It could only be fresher if Eliot had gone to the farm and stuck his hand under the chicken himself. "Crack it into a bowl. You do this gently enough, and you won't have to spend half the class picking out bits of shell. Add a dollop of milk -- yes, that's an actual technical cooking term, it's basically a small, unmeasured amount, kind of like a pinch only for liquid. Pour for about as long as it actually takes you to say 'dollop' and you should be good. Then add some salt and pepper. Again, this ain't somethin' you need to worry about precise measurements on. Stir all that together with a whisk or a fork, whatever you got handy, makin' sure to break up the yolk, and pour it into your non-stick pan over a medium heat. If you don't have nonstick pans at home, there's somethin' wrong with you. But you can melt a little butter on there first to keep from ruinin' the bottom of your pan with your egg. Then stir it around in the pan as it solidifies until you've got a nice fluffy texture. Literally takes maybe two minutes. Put your veggies in while it's cooking and toss it all together, and you've got a full meal in about the same amount of time as it takes to microwave a hot pocket, and you know exactly what's in it.
"If that's too simple for you, feel free to try an omelet. Or fried eggs. Or, hell, I'll let you try poaching 'em, if you want.
"So. Grab yourselves a pan and some eggs and get cookin'. Let me know if you've got any questions, and if anyone cuts off a body part or sets anything on fire, I'll kill you." He gave the class a mild version of his crazy-serial-killer grin. "Other'n that, go nuts. Best way to learn is to screw it up a few times first."
When the students arrived, they'd find a series of tables set up in the center of the room, and enough small kitchen sets for everyone to use, so long as they didn't mind pairing off. Eliot himself was at the front of the class, his hair held back with a black bandana, an apron covering his usual t-shirt-and-jeans. The table in front of him had a set of frying pans, a bouquet of spatulas and whisks, several egg cartons, and a variety of vegetables, both pre-packaged and fresh.
"Hi," he said, when class was set to start. He didn't actually have a roster for this one, so he figured whoever was here was who he was going to get. "For those of you who maybe haven't met me, I'm Eliot Spencer. I own and manage the diner in town. I've taught cooking and worked with master chefs all over the world, and I'm caterin' the wedding of the pickiest eater this island has likely ever seen." He smiled. "But we ain't dealin' with anything like that in this class." He picked up a zucchini and tossed it from hand to hand, spinning it in the air as he circled the front table.
"Cooking is an art form, don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Cooking is my art, how I deal with the crap life likes to hand me. More important, though, cooking is a skill. Bein' able to feed yourself somethin' good, nutritious, and tasty, is a basic life skill anyone can -- and should -- master."
He set the zucchini down with a thunk and folded his arms.
"Before we get started, let me say this: there ain't nothin' wrong with a freezer and a microwave. They're great. Take it from a guy who's had to live off MREs or what he could catch and cook in the wild. Bein' able to just pull somethin' out of the icebox and nuke it for a couple of minutes is a godsend. But it ain't no way to live your whole life, and at the moment this island ain't in the Gobi Desert. If we ain't gettin' attacked by aliens or invaded by ten year olds, there's no excuse for not puttin' in the effort to make yourself somethin' fresh on the regular.
"We'll start off super easy today: scrambled eggs. And because you need more'n protein and fat in your diet, I've got some quick cookin' veggies for y'all to toss in there with 'em. Me, I like to do it up with a little spinach and tomato, when they're in season." Advantage of portal travel, you could always get somewhere that tomatoes were in season. "Out of season tomatoes taste like gym socks. Never settle for less than a good summer tomato." Like the bright red one he was tossing from hand to hand, now. He swapped it for a plastic bag with a big green dude on it. "If that's too crazy for ya, you can do a steamed vegetable medley." He held the bag up for the room to see. "See? Frozen and microwavable. So long as these steam-in-the-bag things haven't been sittin' in the back of the freezer for six months, they're still going to be pretty good. A little soggy for my tastes, but if you toss them in the pan for a bit with a little bit of oil before you add your egg, they should firm up.
"As for the egg." He picked one out of the carton and held it up. It was brown, speckled, and unrefrigerated. It could only be fresher if Eliot had gone to the farm and stuck his hand under the chicken himself. "Crack it into a bowl. You do this gently enough, and you won't have to spend half the class picking out bits of shell. Add a dollop of milk -- yes, that's an actual technical cooking term, it's basically a small, unmeasured amount, kind of like a pinch only for liquid. Pour for about as long as it actually takes you to say 'dollop' and you should be good. Then add some salt and pepper. Again, this ain't somethin' you need to worry about precise measurements on. Stir all that together with a whisk or a fork, whatever you got handy, makin' sure to break up the yolk, and pour it into your non-stick pan over a medium heat. If you don't have nonstick pans at home, there's somethin' wrong with you. But you can melt a little butter on there first to keep from ruinin' the bottom of your pan with your egg. Then stir it around in the pan as it solidifies until you've got a nice fluffy texture. Literally takes maybe two minutes. Put your veggies in while it's cooking and toss it all together, and you've got a full meal in about the same amount of time as it takes to microwave a hot pocket, and you know exactly what's in it.
"If that's too simple for you, feel free to try an omelet. Or fried eggs. Or, hell, I'll let you try poaching 'em, if you want.
"So. Grab yourselves a pan and some eggs and get cookin'. Let me know if you've got any questions, and if anyone cuts off a body part or sets anything on fire, I'll kill you." He gave the class a mild version of his crazy-serial-killer grin. "Other'n that, go nuts. Best way to learn is to screw it up a few times first."